


The Magic Touch

by SamoanSexGodReigns



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Do not post to another site, F/F, Gift Fic, Kayfabe Compliant, Massage, i don't know how to rate things, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22388785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamoanSexGodReigns/pseuds/SamoanSexGodReigns
Summary: As it turns out, wrestling is hell on the body, but Candice is there with willing hands and a bottle of lotion to make it all better.
Relationships: Candice LeRae/Rhea Ripley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	The Magic Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JennyPenny26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyPenny26/gifts).



> Written for a birthday exchange with my newest friend, and newest birthday buddy, Jenni. Happy BIrthday!
> 
> Set immediately after the December 18, 2019 episode of NXT.

When Rhea finally makes it home, it’s well after midnight, and while she’s still riding the emotional high of her victory, the accompanying adrenaline rush has faded and now, she can feel every punch, choke, and slam in the deep throbbing aches blossoming all over her body. Limping through the house, she makes her way carefully to the bedroom before depositing _her championship_ on the dresser and gingerly collapsing onto the bed. Something about her landing pisses off her back, though, and a wrenching pain twists up her spine to steal her breath as Rhea gasps in unexpected agony.

“Fuck.” she groans, throat raspy and raw as the throbbing in her limbs intensifies. She may have won the war against Shayna and her horses, but she wasn’t without her battle wounds, and at the moment, they were all making themselves painfully known.

“I can help with that.” A voice calls from the doorway, and when Rhea turns to the sound, there’s Candice, the frosty to her french fry, with a knowing smile and sympathetic eyes. 

That’s when Rhea realizes that this – the aftermath of battle – must be incredibly familiar to her. Candice has been to war before, more times than either of them can count anymore, and you can’t get back in the fight if you don’t know how to patch yourself up first.

“Oh yeah?” she asks, raising one skeptical brow, and she’s delighted to learn that it’s one of the few actions that doesn’t currently make her want to die. 

“Yeah. Take off your clothes and lay on your stomach. I’ll be right back.” 

Candice’s tone brokers no arguments, and the steel authority with which she tries to direct Rhea makes her chuckle and then wince as her back spasms in protest. 

“You know, normally, I’d argue with you about not having to follow your orders, but everything hurts, and I just don’t have the energy for it.”

“Good. Now do as you’re told.” 

She’s gone a second later, down the hallway and towards the bathroom, and Rhea smiles in spite of herself. Rhea knows who she is. Knows that she wants to forge her own path regardless of any and all obstacles thrown her way, and it’s this fiercely independent pride that makes her rankle under other people’s orders. She likes to be in charge, and she likes to be in control, but there’s something about Candice that makes her want to… obey. 

Not that she’ll ever admit it, of course. 

She has a reputation to protect, after all.

Removing her clothes is a hassle and a chore as her every muscle, ligament, and tendon pleads against the movement. Still, she manages to do it without hurting herself overly much. Newly nude, she delicately lays out on her stomach and then pillows her head on folded arms. Seconds tick by, innocuous and silent, as Rhea tries to calm her mind and body, and eventually, the sure sound of Candice’s returning footsteps quirks her ears. 

When Candice walks back into the room, she sucks in an audible breath at the sight that greets her, and Rhea smirks at Candice’s reaction. Her eyes trail hot and admiring over Rhea’s body, and suddenly, the air changes, _charges_ , with awareness and desire. The focus and intensity of Candice’s stare are almost like a physical touch where it traces down Rhea’s neck and along the curve of her spine to the swell of her ass. 

She revels in it for a moment, the powerful feeling of being able to stop someone in their tracks with just her presence, and then she’s back to using the moment to tease Candice.

“Are you just gonna look, or were you plannin’ on doing something?” she asks with gravelly amusement.

“Don’t get smart with me now,” Candice huffs, “or I won’t help you at all.”

She finally opens her eyes to Candice’s faux stern expression, and Rhea barely bites back another laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss. LeRae, I didn’t mean to be a bad girl, honest,” she replies, fluttering her lashes sarcastically, but Candice just rolls her eyes and continues on as if Rhea hadn’t said anything.

“You didn’t have any massage oil, obviously, but I did find this tub of lotion, so it’s not a total loss. Are you ready?”

“Do your worst, cupcake,” she answers, once again closing her eyes and relaxing into the blissful blackness the simple action brings. 

She can hear Candice putter about the room for another minute, and then the bed is dipping slightly as she moves to straddle Rhea’s legs. She perches herself on Rhea’s thighs, and she’s still supporting most of her own weight, so she doesn’t hurt Rhea, but she’s close enough that the intimate brush of bare skin alerts Rhea to the fact that Candice is just as naked as she is. 

That one new piece of information instantly alters the situation for Rhea, and her heart runs the ropes in her chest as it starts to pound behind her ribs, and the power shifts drastically in Candice’s favor. Rhea owns her body, owns her confidence in it, and being undressed in front, a woman she’s attracted to is no big deal. That same woman being undressed, hovering warm and soft above her, is another matter entirely. 

Time slows to a crawl, and the soft _pop_ the lotion makes when Candice opens it explodes and reverberates against her eardrums like pay-per-view pyrotechnics. Her skin prickles with a soft fuzzy static in anticipation of Candice’s touch, but it’s the smell of the lotion that hits her first, something lemony and effervescent that Rhea doesn’t even remember owning. She half expects the cream to be cold, and she braces herself for that first shock of temperature, but it never comes, and Candice’s hands slide body-heat slick over her trapezius muscles and the fragile bones of her cervical spine. 

“Put your arms by your side. It’ll make it easier for me to get at your shoulders.”

She follows Candice’s order without question, for once, and the tips of Rhea’s fingers slip snug into the space between her thighs and Candice’s knees. The position does allow Candice better access to Rhea’s shoulders, and her small, capable fingers catch and release every hidden ball of tension and anxiety with ease. Rhea breathes deep and sighs as relief spreads sunny and glowing from everywhere Candice touches. This side of the bed smells like _her_ now, she damn near moved in after War Games, and the bubbly floral scent tickles Rhea’s nose as _Candice_ fills her senses. 

When she’s finished with Rhea’s shoulders, her hands continue to work strong and sure down Rhea’s back, where she digs determined thumbs into every beating bunched knot she finds. She discovers a particularly tender spot at the small of Rhea’s back, and she moans, high and hungry, as a nearly overwhelming pleasure-pain follows the touch.

Candice pauses at the sound, hands going still against Rhea’s desperate skin. “Is that good?” she questions with concern.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “hurts a little but still feels good. Please, don’t stop.”

“Alright,” Candice reassures, “I won’t.”

And then she keeps her word.

She massages Rhea’s back, from neck to lumbar and every centimeter in between, until Rhea feels like she might float away. Her touch feels amplified, every skim, graze, and stroke, enough to shiver goosebumps to the surface of Rhea’s skin in its wake. Candice gently replaces each strain, sprain, and bruise with helium healing, and Rhea levitates above her form, astral and unshackled, freed by the grace of Candice’s hands, and watches her body transcend. 

She starts another pass, following the little notches of Rhea’s vertebrae like the Yellow Brick Road, but this time Candice doesn’t stop at the small of her back and instead keeps moving south until she’s dragging manicure-rounded nails over the globes of Rhea’s ass. She rests her hands there for a moment, butterfly light but heavy with intention, and Rhea flushes with the paradoxical polar heat of arousal as another moan sneaks past her lips. 

“Still good?” Candice wonders aloud.

“Yes,” she whispers, “please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” she promises.

And then she keeps her word.

She presses and rubs and manipulates pressure and stress from Rhea’s sciatic nerve and her gluteus muscles, and she vibrates with awareness at the sensual exploration of Candice’s fingers. She melts passion into Rhea’s flesh, and her arousal keeps rising like sea levels until there’s no denying the climate change of her planetary body.

She’s on fucking fire.

Flames flow from Candice’s hands to scorch Rhea – mind, body, and soul – and she’s caught in a fever of lust that won’t break, and she whines into the blanket. Her heart is raging and moshing behind her sternum, and her skin sizzles and sparks as sweat blooms dewy and glistening across her brow.

“Shh.” Candice soothes, tracing over the secret skin between Rhea’s thighs, and then, “Good?”

“Please,” she begs.

“Alright.”

Candice’s touch rushes over her like the roar of a sold-out crowd, and her talented fingers coax Rhea expertly up the ladder of pleasure before pummeling her to the ground in a wave of erotic euphoria that leaves her seeing stars. 

When she’s just a person again and not a mass of radiant rainbow atoms, she opens her eyes to see Candice stretched out next to her on the bed, pretty and perfect. She blushes under Rhea’s gaze, rosy and right, and Rhea reaches out to push a thick lock of silky blonde hair behind Candice’s ear before cupping her cheek. 

Candice nuzzles into Rhea’s palm and presses her lips to the heel of Rhea’s hand. “Did that help at all?”

“More than any pain reliever, Miss. LeRae.” she grins. “I feel like I could go another couple rounds. How ‘bout you?” she asks with a wink.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. It’s time to sleep now.” Candice laughs, darting forward for a surprisingly sweet and lingering kiss. 

Rhea’s a gooey puddle when Candice pulls away, and with a final peck, she rolls off the bed to turn off the light. In the last few seconds that it takes Candice to cross the room to the light switch, Rhea turns her eyes to the dresser and smiles in triumph at the five pounds of gold shimmering on its wooden surface. 

It’s the last thing she sees before the room goes dark, and sleep puts her in a headlock, and then it’s the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes to a new day. 

The title is still there, expensive and extravagant because it’s fuckin’ _hers_ and when she turns over, Candice is still there too, sleep-warm and innocent, because she’s Rhea’s now, as well.

She pulls Candice back tight against her body and buries her nose in Candice’s hair as slumber beckons her back under, and though it might seem like a dream, she knows that Candice, and the title, will still be there when she wakes up again.

Because she’s Rhea fuckin’ Ripley and she’s the champ.

**End**


End file.
